


Hide From The Sun

by The Puppeteer (PoisonedDeath)



Series: If We Exist [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Minotaurs, Period-Typical Homophobia, it's complicated basically, kind of a crossover with might and magic VIII and my own universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 00:52:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6401215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoisonedDeath/pseuds/The%20Puppeteer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would the king say if he turned up looking like this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide From The Sun

**Author's Note:**

> title from the rasmus album of the same name (or the song dead promises)

There were hands around his throat, arms around his waist, a vice-like grip on his horns. His legs weren’t strong enough to hold his weight, and he’d long since collapsed to his bruised knees. His eyes were screwed shut as the yelling continued – he wanted desperately to cover his ears, but he knew that that was forbidden. There were hooves colliding with his back, words – insults he’d heard a thousand times before – being yelled by the ones who were supposed to love him. He wanted to get to his escape, but he couldn’t go like this. What would the king say if he turned up looking like this? A fist collided with his face, and strong arms pulled him by the wrist until he was standing on shaking legs. The insults continued – he was a traitor, a freak, a faggot in the eyes of his family. He couldn’t speak up, couldn’t say a word as the crowd pulled at his clothing.  
“No, no, no, no,” he found himself begging, tears streaming down his cheeks, “please, no,” escaped his lips before his was shoved to the ground. His father stood above him.  
“The family business is failing. You’re our key to success, Arius. You could walk out of here now and have all of the bulls in the tavern falling into your lap. And you’d like it, you dirty little faggot,” a hoof collided with Arius’ ribs. He tried to curl up, but hands grabbed him and pinned him down. The sensation was overwhelming and Arius wanted so, so desperately to give in. But he wanted no part in his family’s so-called business. He’d always opposed it, even as a small child. And now, as a fourteen year old, he was being made to suffer for it. Finally, the hands let up and the owners of the grips spat on Arius’ battered body and left. He took deep, shuddery breaths as he tried to summon the strength to make the journey to the throne room. Finally forcing himself into a sitting position, the young minotaur steadied his breathing and tried his best to stretch out his limbs. He was malnourished and covered in wounds – a sorry sight to behold in anyone’s eyes, but it was a state he’d grown almost used to. He knew not to fight back. He knew he had to take it. Usually, he’d try to clean himself up before heading out to see his saviour, but he couldn’t see anything he could use and he was all too aware that he wouldn’t get to the throne room if he tried to make a detour – it was going to be a struggle to get there just by taking the shortest route.  
Finding the courage, he clambered to his feet and tried his best to think about anything but the pain that was shredding him apart. He made his way to his destination, having to stop every few moments to lean against the walls, but finally he made it. He knocked lightly, timidly on the door, and a few moments later a middle aged bull with dark fur and kind eyes stood before him, concern creeping into his features.  
“Arius?” the kind man murmured, taking a step toward the beaten boy. Finally safe, Arius allowed himself to let out a pitiful wail and broke down in his king’s arms.


End file.
